


Equipoise

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Married Couple, Sharing a Bed, bedannibalprompts, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 03:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Hannibal smiles at the sight of her curled up by his side, but a sudden worry about her suffering from cold crosses his mind. The last thing he would want is for her to be uncomfortable.





	Equipoise

The evening cold arrived unexpectedly. The temperature dropped long before the last purple bruise of the day disappeared behind Piazzale Michelangelo; the sun abandoning the city like two lovers parting in bitter indifference after a short passionate affair. The cold sinks through the stone walls and streets and a chilly breeze flutters through the window of their bedroom.

Hannibal breaths in deeply, the crisp air clearing his lungs and his mind. He returns to bed and lies down next Bedelia, already in deep sleep. Suddenly, a familiar small hand slides to rest on his chest, followed by another, yet the soft skin he adores so much is unexpectedly cold. Bedelia nestles closer, her feet pressing against his. Hannibal opens his eyes and watches as she shifts in her sleep, like a languid cat seeking her favourite spot, until she finally settles herself. Hannibal smiles at the sight of her curled up by his side, but a sudden worry about her suffering from cold crosses his mind. The last thing he would want is for her to be uncomfortable.

 

“The nights can get quite cool here,” he says the following morning as he enters the bedroom, bringing her usual cup of cappuccino. Bedelia props herself up on the pillow and accepts the cup with a gentle nod.

“It is warmer than in Baltimore,” she replies, eluding his unspoken question, “I like the weather here.” She makes no comment on spending the night burrowed against him and Hannibal does not press the matter. After all, it is not something he objects, quite the contrary.

 

That evening, Bedelia sits at her vanity, applying moisturizer and watching Hannibal, reflected in her mirror, out of the corner of her eye as the scent of honeysuckle permeates the bedroom. He adores observing her routine, but today his mind is distracted, his gaze shifting between her and the wide-open window.

“Perhaps we should close the window,” he suggests at last.

Bedelia’s hand pauses on her neck, her gaze scrutinizing his reflection.

“As you wish,” she says, finishing the task at hand and getting up to shut the window.

But soon, she snuggles against him once more, her cold limbs seeking his heat. Hannibal gently strokes her hair, conflicting thoughts slipping through his mind; he is worried about her, but afraid that if he brings up the subject she will withdraw from him. And there is nothing he values more than these quiet moments of intimacy.

 

The next evening, he waits for her in bed, a determined resolve in his head.

Bedelia returns from the bathroom, peels off the robe and joins him in bed. She remains sitting straight as his serious gaze keeps her in place.

“I have noticed your hands get cold at night,” the words leave his lips hurriedly, before he changes his mind.

Bedelia tenses, a sudden flash of ice in her eyes.

“I am sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” she says curtly and he can see her pulling away, just as he was fearing she would.

“No, of course not,” he replies immediately,” I am simply worried about you.”

“There is no underlying medical condition behind it, if that is what you are asking,” her voice remains cool, a coat of frost on her every word, making the room appear much colder, even to Hannibal.

“I am relieved to hear that,” he says, suddenly regretting his decision to question her.

As freezing silence falls, Bedelia averts her gaze as if they were discussing a flaw she was trying to conceal. A _weakness_ that has become known.

Hannibal opens his mouth, but finds no more words. He moves closer, lying next to her, and takes her hand, kissing it and then placing it on his bare chest. He covers it with his own hand, easily enveloping hers, surrounding it with heat. Bedelia tries to remain indifferent, but a tiny flicker of her eyelids cannot hide her contentment as the warmth begin to sip through her skin.

He spreads his other arm open, an inviting gesture. She moves closer, reluctantly at first, but then allows herself to rest on his chest, her head finding her chosen spot. He wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer, until they are flush, a serene embrace. A soft hum of pleasure escaped her lips.

“Would you like me to get you another blanket?” he speaks at last, a cautious inquiry.

“No,” her voice is barely audible against his chest as she shakes her head.

Her feet snake between his and their legs twine, fitting together perfectly.

Bedelia is asleep within minutes, relishing the warmth enfolding her. Hannibal remains awake, adoring the feel of her body pressed against his. A flawless balance beyond compare.

**Author's Note:**

> Another, spontaneous entry for the prompt "sharing a bed" by electric-couple on tumblr. I am so weak for the tenderness between them.


End file.
